For Winterfell
by LaMaupin
Summary: Dark wings, dark words. Her mother used to say that, or at least, she thought that she had. Some days she could barely remember her mother, or her father, her siblings. Some days it seemed as if everyone she had ever known was dead.


The raven found her in the courtyard. They had just reopened the Eyrie for the summer and she was standing in the courtyard remembering a castle made of snow. It seemed like such a long time ago now, before the long harsh winter and the cold unyielding spring. The Vale of Arryn had prevailed, just as it always had, despite the horrors that had raged outside, but their survival had its cost.

She had seen the raven circling overhead, headed for the rookery. The winter had brought many ravens, each bearing worse news than the last in an endless procession of battles, rebellions, and deaths. So many deaths.

_Dark wings, dark words_. Her mother used to say that, or at least, she thought that she had. Some days she could barely remember her mother, or her father, her siblings. Some days it seemed as if everyone she had ever known was dead.

The raven landed on a tree next to her, startling her out of her reverie. It _quorked_ at her and tilted its head, holding out its leg for her to take the message tied there. A very unravenly thing to do. She thought she saw something familiar in the raven's eyes as she untied the scroll. A warmth that reminded her of home. But that could not be. That home was a ruin. This was her home now.

As the raven took flight and disappeared into the late afternoon light she thought she heard her name, whispered on the wind that blew relentlessly around the towers of the Eyrie, but when she looked around she was alone.

The letter was addressed to Sansa Stark, not Alayne Stone, which only added to its strangeness, as very few people knew she was here. She broke the seal, plain grey wax, and read the message.

"My Lady, you should come inside. Supper is being served and Lord Robert is asking for you."

Sansa hadn't noticed the other woman enter the courtyard, nor had she noticed that the sun had set. She sat, clutching the letter, trying to figure out what to do. She looked up now, seeing a concerned look on Brienne's face.

"What is it my lady?"

Sansa wondered if she should tell Brienne. The part of her that had survived first King's Landing and then the Vale told her not to. The lessons she had learned had been painful, but she had learned. Hold your secrets close. Never trust anyone. Never tell anyone how you truly feel, because this game was as like to kill you as not.

But the part of her that had come to know Brienne over the last years told her to trust her. Brienne, who had stumbled into the Gates of the Moon during the winter, half frozen, claiming she was there to find Sansa Stark. Who had sworn an oath to Lady Catelyn Stark in the middle of the war to find and protect her daughters. Who had been nothing but a loyal protector and even a friend. Who was one of the few people who knew who she really was. And some days even Sansa didn't know who she really was anymore.

She handed Brienne the letter.

"My Lady, this must be some cruel jape. Your brothers are dead."

"I know. Or at least that's what everyone says," Sansa replied, looking up at Brienne, who looked concerned. "But I can't help but wonder if what everyone says is wrong. They say that there are no living Starks, but I am a Stark. If they could be wrong about me, they could be wrong about Bran and Rickon. Even Arya."

Brienne didn't seem convinced, but why should she be? It was hardly convincing.

"It's most like a trap, my lady. Someone has found out who you are and wants to draw you away from the safety of the Vale."

She had considered that possibility. It did seem the likeliest. But still something pulled at her. Maybe it was just regret, and guilt, and grief, and all the possibility of seeing her family again, such that it was. She knew all of that. She did. But too many people had died. If there was any chance that any of her siblings were still alive she had to find them.

"No one knows who I am. Just you and my father. Lord Baelish. And this is far too bold to be one of his plots. Anyways, even if it is a fake, that means there is a Stark pretender in the North and I can't let that stand."

Brienne nodded her ascent but Sansa could tell she didn't agree. But she couldn't stay in the Vale forever. Hiding from who she really was. Winter was coming, those were her father's words; her words. And she knew she would do better to prepare for the politics of summer. The plots and schemes and the ever present game of thrones. But this was family, and she was as much a Tully as a Stark.

She would go north, and in one way or another she would reclaim what was hers.


End file.
